Stubborn Elvish Muse
by Mind-Entrapped-Wanderlust
Summary: In which, Nuada becomes the inspiration and fascination of an outcast artist, whom has captured his interest as well, much to his distaste. Blast those eyes of hers... [Pre-Hellboy II, AU-ish.]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The only thing I own is my OC, anything/anyone else belongs to their respective owners.

{_A/N_}: Made because Nuada's training scene instantly elicited a strong desire to draw him in me. /squeals into sketchbook.

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**1. - **Watching whilst unknowingly being watched. -

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He blamed it on her eyes.

They were a weird coloration that was possibly inhuman, but _she _definitely wasn't anything of faerie lore. Her clumsy mannerisms were proof of that, as was the lack of any evidence of glamour. This girl was one of those creatures; a human, he'd concluded with a scowl. He was sure of it.

And yet, as those vivid lavender eyes freckled with copper scanned over his hidden form, Nuada couldn't quite shake off the not-so-human feeling he received upon them unknowingly passing by him. Each day, he kept unintentionally returning as if drawn by them, much to his disdain and annoyance.

He didn't know whether it was because of his curiosity about her strange eyes, or the flipping sensations they gave his stomach. Either way, he didn't like any of it for the simple fact that a human, of all things, was causing his unusual behavior. Even Mr. Wink found it disturbingly odd.

As usual, she was sitting under an massive oak tree that lined the thinnest part of the forest, back rested against its trunk with a large drawing pad settled in her lap. The human was sketching away, those eyes of hers occasionally flicking up just left of his position amongst the thicket of the forest. With his own keen eyes, Nuada saw she bought coloring materials this time, and tilted his head, watching intently as she slid the pencil she'd been using between the wire wrapped about her neck. Then focused on matching the colors of her creation to the view she was modeling it off of.

Though she was human, Nuada had to give her a _bit _of a positive outlook.

When he first stumbled upon her, he was rather surprised to find a human out enjoying the simplicities of the nature miraculously still clinging on the outskirts of their 'great' cities. It wasn't like he hadn't seen any before…though most of them constantly complained about the weather or the smallest of insects. And he never stuck around to study their mannerisms much more past the complaining, he never had the patience to.

But she was different, he noticed, after spending less time musing over her eyes. She was quiet and seemed quite serene, alone in the sanctity of the trees, only with that pad and a basket of art supplies. No fancy, air polluting and earth disrupting machinery, no group of rowdy friends littering the purity of the wild foliage with discarded trash. In fact, even with those unique eyes, she looked as if she belonged there. With deep mahogany colored hair and skin matching the golden brown leaves beneath her bare feet…

With a sharp scoff, Nuada hastily shook of such thoughts and berated himself. This woman was a _human. _They had long ago lost their affinity with the earth, and the magical touch and creatures it once held to their proud and greedy quest to take it and reshape everything to fill their bottomless pit of desire, to make it their own. Trading open, fertile lands for cold, cramped steel. And they didn't care that they were killing what once was in the process. He was sure this human was doing the same, in her own way.

"They're all the same…" Nuada muttered under his breath, his grip on the branch of a bush tightening as he glowered at the woman. Through his own thoughts, Nuada had agitated himself, and was beginning to lose the frightening strong interest he found in this mortal. For the briefest of moments, he felt that he was in the right set of mind again, relieved almost.

Then she began singing.

His grip slackened and his contorted features almost instantly relaxed. It was his first time hearing her voice, and now his interest was peaked tenfold. It was nothing like the elf-maidens of his kingdom, but uniquely melodious, soft and gentle, soothing. Surprisingly…beautiful. He couldn't quite make out what she was saying, even with his sharp hearing, and this frustrated him. Something urged him to move closer, but he simply gave an irritated sigh and battled against it. She'd see him. He would just have to settle for staying hidden.

The woman continued to sing, light and wispy sounding, as she stood and stretched out her legs. She did the same with her arms, the pad still in her hands as she stretched them above her head, smiling wide up at her completed drawing. Her eyes almost seemed to glow like amethyst stones dribbled in honey. When she turned to gather up her things, Nuada then moved, carefully and slowly. He knew she was preparing to leave, and this was when he would do the same, waiting for her to tread out- and trip occasionally- of the sparse cover of trees she sat in. Then he would leave to return to his home beneath the Troll Market…and perhaps would just have to option staying there for awhile.

But she did something different this time. To his surprise, she tore the page from her drawing pad and folded it neatly in half, right down the middle.

_What is she doing..? _Nuada mused, frowning as she proceeded to tack it to the oak tree, slowly lowering himself back down to remain unseen. Did she not want to keep it, after working for so long on it?

The woman stood there a moment longer before running a hand through her dark hair and finally taking her leave. She glanced back at the paper once, then after a few minutes, was soon from Nuada's view, the singing fading with her.

As soon as he was sure she wouldn't return, he hastily made his way to the paper and snatched it from the tree, the tack flying off to the side from the force. His senses had righted themselves now that the human and her strange eyes were gone, and now he was just annoyed and perplexed. What was she _thinking_, leaving it on a tree of all things? Was it meant for someone? No… In the time he's observed her, he hadn't seen any traces of anyone else. She was always alone. So why leave it here?

Nuada glared off in the direction the woman left, shaking his head as he unfolded the paper. Though fuming over such an odd action, He was curious as to what she had drawn.

"And they use to call us th-"

Nuada froze as he gazed upon the picture, his eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline as his eyes widened in pure shock.

There on the paper, drawn in amazing detail, was an image of him, surrounded by the lush greenery which he thought had hid his presence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but my OC, anyone/anything else belongs to their respective owners and creators.

{_A/N_}: Thanks to **BeautifulCataleya **and **canarycup **for following and/or adding this to their favorites. /passes around muffins

**Anti-Carly- **kjdfkljsdf8whodk;lhwhu Your review was entirely too flattering, shug'. I really appreciate it!Made my day and all that happy goodness, so this got typed a lot faster due to that. Thanks again!~

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**2.** - You think I'm what…? -

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This time, Nuada approached her openly.

No hiding against trees, crouching beneath the cover of bushes, No marveling in small wonder at her eyes. She already knew he was there. He would demand to know what kind of game she was playing at; and whom she thought she was playing it with.

His strides were gracefully quick, silent, and his presence was completely unnoticed by the woman as she prepped her spot for another day of sketching. She turned when Nuada unintentionally stepped on her drawing pad, the faint chirr of the metal spirals holding the pages together drawing her attention.

Before she could even draw in a surprised breath, the blade of his spear was held firmly against the crook of her neck.

"Do not move…" Nuada ordered lowly, the dangerous undertone in his voice dampening slightly upon making eye contact with her, his pale skin getting gooseflesh. He had almost forgotten about her eyes, and the sensation they usually gave him was amplified. They were a brilliant violaceous color today, the aurous specks in them dancing in the sunlight. It took him a moment to noticed the small panic in them.

He blinked several times, choosing to focus on her furrowed brows as his distemper flared again.

"Listen, _girl,_" The prince began, applying a sparse amount pressure with his spearhead to her neck, just enough to make it uncomfortable. She released a strained squeak. His eyes narrowed. "And answer me this; how long have you known that I've been here?"

To Nuada's astonishment, she actually responded calmly, despite the wild look in her eyes.

"…You're real?"

As a jolt ran through him abruptly, Nuada tilted his head, his confusion at her questioning reply written all over his tense face. That wasn't what he was expecting. At his sudden appearance, almost all the humans he'd encountered in this age had froze in a state of prostration; going deathly still in stupor, releasing shrill exclamations of surprise, etcetera, etcetera. But none whatsoever had ever so blandly question his existence as he stood right before them, spear posed and ready to take their life with just a single swipe.

_Strange, strange human. _

The confusion ran its course a moment longer before anger rushed through the elf's veins. The spear was pressed harder and crimson droplets tracked down café au lait colored skin, the owner of such whimpered faintly. Her eyes seemed to shine bright violet as the panic returned, along with hints of terror.

It was then that Nuada reminded himself again, for what seemed to be the hundredth time, that she was like any other human, the whole despicable lot of them. Her eyes be damned. He had felt his pride was stricken, having been detected by such a creature lacking his kind's heightened senses. A _human _(He struggled with and ignored the sensation screaming against that title.) And her going as far as to leave evidence that she knew he was watching and from exactly where had added to his frustration.

Was she taunting him? Or simply letting him know she knew of his visits? How long had she known? And since she knew, why didn't she just find another spot, did she not perceive him as a threat? It was these questions that frustrated him, ones of which he wouldn't been so bent musing over had it not been for the female human quivering before him and his narrowed, harsh gaze. Why did she puzzle him so?

"Do you not see me standing two feet in front of you, girl?" Nuada quipped almost crudely, an agitated smirk quirking his dark lips. "Do you not feel the sting of my spear against your flesh? Now, I asked you a question, and I will receive an answer." He dropped his smirk, scowling instead. "How long have you known?"

Again, he didn't receive an answer. But, instead, watched as her eyes lost their terror and a childlike excitement rose in them and she was suddenly smiling. Confused as ever now, Nuada took a cautious step back and gripped his spear even tighter, his scowl deepening.

Perhaps she was insane….?

In a heartbeat, her mouth was running faster than the swiftest of his father's most prized horses.

"You're REAL!" She practically gushed, immaturely clapping her hands together like a toddler would upon seeing a flashy toy. She even squealed like one. "I can't believe it, I seriously can't believe you're here! Oh!~" She poked him. Twice, disregarding his spear.

Nuada took two steps back now, glaring down at his chest. "….What are you going on about…?"

"You," She took a step forward, smiling widely at the elven prince. He remarkably found himself staring at the fullness of her bottom lip and quickly focused on her eyes. They were like shimmering lilacs and warm amber. "I thought….I-I thought I was imagining things again…That you were just another, yet oddly detailed, trick of the light. Ya know, living out here alone is nice and all, but coming from the city, it takes time getting use to all the quiet. Though I don't really miss hearing sirens all night long or people calling out to each other and whatnot like its so difficult to use a freakin' phone. I mean, it's just as eas-"

"_Stop _with your insistent rambling!"

At the woman's instant compliance, Nuada released an exasperated sigh, rubbing the palm of his hand against his temple, shutting his eyes tight in against a forming headache. All that non-related blabber…she _had_ to be human. They never knew when to shut up.

"I-I'm sorry…I ramble when I'm excited.."

At her softened voice, Nuada glanced at her with an arched brow. She was staring at him intently now, a hand covering where his spear had been moments ago, smearing the blood there. She didn't even show any notions of discomfort or pain anymore. She shuffled nervously and chuckled when he told her it was very grating on the nerves, her rambling.

"Again, sorry…and to answer your question…five days. I've known for five days now."

Nuada was silent. He was slightly pleased that she finally answered him, but tense as well. He'd been watching her five days exactly, and she knew right from the beginning that he was there. But he had his answer didn't he? Well, one of them. Though, it would suffice. Nuada looked away from the strange and now silent human and contemplated his next move. Instantly, the idea of leaving reared as the best option. He had already wasted so much time on this odd and-now to his knowledge- vexatious human, acted abnormal by finding her interesting and watching her from the foliage.

He wouldn't even spare her his name, she'd know it soon, they all would. He should just leave and get back on focus with ridding the world of her kind.

But…he wanted to know a few more things before doing so.

"Why did you draw me?" He asked suddenly, his golden gaze solemn and hard as he swallowed a stubborn lump in his throat. "And why did you leave it for me to find?"

She blinked, as if snapping from a daze, and met his gaze. She removed her hand from her neck, the bleeding stopped, and wrung her hands together. She looked away from his gaze and Nuada saw faint traces of pink color the mocha of her cheeks. He vaguely thought it complimented her eyes.

"Well, I, erm, was just testing to see if you were real…if you were, which you are, you'd take it. I'm surprised it worked! What if you just de-"

Nuada made a noise of irritation. "Be quiet. You're doing it again, girl. I'm assuming that's why you drew it in the first place as well." She said nothing, and simply fiddled with a lock of her hair. So he added, quite abruptly, "Well, you'll no longer have to worry about me invading your backdrop. This is the last you'll see of me."

He only caught a glimpse of her questioning expression as he turned on his heel and began to take his leave. As swift and silent as he came.

"Y…You're not coming back?", She called out, a whine in her tone.

He didn't bother to turn around, rolling his eyes and continued on his way. "I do not plan to, no."

"…I-I…wait! You're not gonna tell me who you are or what yo-… Um, I think...I mean.. You're very pretty!"

The prince nearly ran into a tree, so incredibly thrown off guard by her outburst, he was. Slowly, he turned back to her, staring at her as if she'd grown horns and started spewing rainbows out her mouth.

"….What?"

"You're …pretty…beautiful? Oh geez, this is weird…Alright, the reason I drew you is because I thought you were, well, extremely amazing to look at. I've never seen anyone like you before. I was...really hoping you'd come back…and let me draw you again. Ya' know, only you won't be hiding in the bushes, though the greens match your skin nicely." She chuckled, her eyes gleaming with admiration that supported her words and compliments.

Nuada blinked and only stared at her incredulously. He swore, a list of the strange, different things about her was building. And to his extreme confliction, he found an urge building low in his gut. No…he would not even address it, it would make things unnecessarily complicated and more uncharacteristic behavior from him would ensue.

There was a drawn out awkward silence, in which Nuada used to regain his composure and worked to leave as quickly as possible, grumbling under his breath all the way.

The woman watched as he stormed off, her dejected expression and crossed fingers unseen by the prince.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I think you get the point that I own nothing….right?

{_A/N_}: Kinda eh about this chapter, but this is better than my first attempt at it. I think the beginning is nice though. /flops away.

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**3. - **Questions and Names -

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"Can you, ya know,…be still?"

"No."

"Please?"

He glanced at her, golden eyes narrowed in subtle agitation. "Not until I am done. Now be quiet."

"….…..Pretty, _pretty_ please?"

"I said **no**."

"…..Just for ten seconds?"

With an irritated sigh he stilled, for exactly ten seconds, holding her gaze as her drawing hand barely twitch above her sketchbook, then continued on with his inspection of the small living room area, passing by her for the fifth time. Tossing her pencil back into its case and flipping her sketchbook shut, she repressed a groan of frustration and settled to glower at the male. He simply ignored her.

She sighed, glancing at the old grandfather clock ticking away at far left of the room. _Three hours_, he said. _That's all you have_, he said. She figured that meant he would cooperate at _least, _and he even agreed to come back to her house with her! Which alone had ended up wasting nearly twenty minutes of walking filled with the most awkward silence she'd ever experienced. She paled at the memory of it; things hadn't been that awkward around her since that time she cried over a dead frog in biology class. And now ten more minutes were gone, due to his persistent pacing and wandering about.

The kettle steaming away in the kitchen keened and whistled, and she stood to go attend to it. She paused between the archway leading to the kitchen and dining space, cocking her head in a way that made her dark hair shift across her shoulders.

"Uh…Would you like some tea? All I have is the blackberry-vanilla mix, but its good."

Her guest, now posted in front of a birch bookshelf, muttered another 'no' as he brushed his fingers along the spines of the books placed there.

With a another sigh and shaking her head, she left to prepare her tea. As she let it steep, she watched him curiously, violet eyes taking in pale blond hair that darkened at the ends; was it naturally like that? His skin was even paler, though in certain lightening looked to match his hair, accentuating his dark lips and the shadows around his eyes; which were vibrant against all the cold colors that he was made up of. And people thought her eyes were strange. Though, his were…slightly intimidating, but she mostly blamed that on the stern, stay-away-from-me-before-I-jab-you-with-my-spear look he always seemed to have. Was his face always so tense? And where did he get all those scars from…? Absentmindedly, she scratched at the bandage on her neck, a motion that distracted her from the near burning desire to scramble for her sketchbook and pencils. Simply staring at him set her muse on fire.

As if reading her thoughts, he suddenly looked up in her direction, causing the woman to release a very weird snort-gasp sound, and turn abruptly, getting a gut full of a pointy counter corner.

"Smooth, Jojo,… real discrete too…" She grumbled, hunched over and gripping the counter as the pain subsided. She stayed that way for a minute, thinking he would ask why she was staring, but figured after a while of silence he just didn't care. Rubbing her side and straightening up, she grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured herself some tea. She was in the middle of adding a crap-load of sugar when he said something again.

"Girl," He called, and she hastily set down the sugar bag, brows raised as she turned at the distracted tone in his voice. He was holding a book, one of which she couldn't see the cover of to identify, and motioned for her to follow him back into the living room.

For a moment, she stood there like an idiot.

Then as fast as possible, with a steaming cup of tea no less, she hurried after him. He was sitting in the chair opposite of her couch, thumbing through the book. Other than that, he was completely still, his eyes and hands the only things moving.

_Opportunity!_, A voiced squealed in her head, and enthusiasm jolted through her. She nearly squealed. She was about to ask if she could _now_ draw when she thought better of it.

_Wait! If I talk, I might annoy him again…then he'll leave, then I can't draw him, then- _

Quietly, she sat down her mug, and slowly seated herself upon the couch. Her movements where extremely careful, as if she was scared of frightening off an animal, as she grabbed her sketchbook and pencils. She cringed when the pencils rolled around in their tin container. But he didn't take notice. Sighing softly, she opened the book to a blank page and selected a pencil, never taking her eyes off him.

As soon as the lead touched the paper, her wrist flicked, and her hand was dancing across the paper. Each stroke was hastily done; short, but joined together lines that formed the frame and shape of his face, shoulders, and chair he was seated in. As the minutes past, she added more and more detail, saving his eyes for last.

Again, she mentally remarked on how pretty she thought he was.

In all actuality, she hadn't been lying when she called him pretty. Though her cheeks heated up in memory of her outburst, and she was just trying to stop him from leaving, she had really meant it. But mainly from an artist's perspective; well, her perspective at least. She loved drawing long hair-his went down his shoulders. She always wanted to use darker tones in a portrait-he was nearly perfect for them. She could make a list out of all the reasons she found him artistically 'pretty' or 'beautiful'. And…he wasn't all that bad looking either.

When she was alone, she was sure saying that, calling him beautiful, had actually ruined her chances of seeing him again. Cause…guys liked to be called handsome, right…not pretty? He looked so determined to prove he wouldn't return with the way he left, giving her nothing. No name, no "See you later, maybe.' Just straight out , Okay, I'm leaving, bye. And for a little while, she was starting to believe he was a figment of her imagination after all. That she just scratched herself on some random object; which she was prone to doing anyways.

But he wasn't. He came back, and she was overjoyed, though had to contain it due to him nearly leaving again. And he agreed to let her draw him. He had muttered something about compromises, but didn't dwell into telling her.

She didn't care though, as long as he didn't leave and let her sketch away. And…she was really use to him being around now. And as stiff as he may seem, she appreciated his presence; she was beginning to get lonely.

When she did get around to his eyes, shading in the shadows overcastting them, she noticed he was staring at her. The look in his eyes suggested he was questioning something.

"What is it..?" She mumbled absently, pausing to erase a few extra guidelines away.

"…Do you...know who I am?"

Blinking, she focused more on him now, but continued drawing. "Erm…You're the guy sitting in my house…that I'm using as a model?"

He sighed. "That's not what I meant. Why is it that you've haven't asked my name? And find my appearance…'likeable'? Do you not think me strange looking? "

"…You really ask a lot of questions, ya know…Out of the blue, too."

"And you talk entirely too much at times. Besides, you were muttering to yourself about my 'prettiness', thus making me…curious. Now, answer me."

Blushing and clamping her lips together, she looked down at her hand holding the sketchbook, taking a moment to think. A normal person would behave entirely different in her situation, wouldn't they? They wouldn't ask some weird looking guy they caught spying on them if they could draw him. And they most certainly would not invite him into their house. Oddly enough though, she didn't have it in her to care this time about her strange line of thinking.

"Well, I did asked for your name…but I figured you forgot or just wanted to tell me whenever you felt like it. And, you haven't asked for mine. And I guess I just got used to seeing you every day and whatnot. Clearly you're…um, different, I'll admit that. But who am I to judge how someone looks if I know nothing about what they might be. Its just plain rude when ya think about it."

He didn't saying anything, not even about her rambling that all out. Maybe because she didn't use so many um's and well's this time around. His silence made her feel edgy, she could tell he was staring at her again and she fought to not fidget in her seat. She kept her eyes on her drawing of him, but had even became intimidated by his stare there, so she settled to gaze at a blank area on the paper.

"What is your name?" He asked suddenly, making her jump. For once, he actually was lacking a bit of that harshness in his voice.

"Uh….My name?…. I-It's kinda weird."

"A name is a name….in exchange for yours, I will tell you mine."

She bit her lip, swearing she felt her pencil creak under her tightening grip on it. Her curiosity was peaked now at the sudden chance of learning his name while he seemed to be willing to share it. She just had to give him hers…? She peeked up at him, expecting to find that same tense brow and slight frown. But was surprised to see that he almost looked to be…more lax. His eyes were a bit more softer as he nodded to her. She swallowed.

"Promise?", she asked, nearly pouting.

His lip twitched. "Is there a point in me lying?"

"…Fjóla." She rushed out quickly, her usually hidden accent rolling out with the revealing of her name. Thinking that she might have spoke it _too _quickly, she elaborated, " F...J, O, L, A. The 'J' is pronounced like a 'Y', so- "

His cut her off, eyes gleaming as an amused smirk spread across his face. "Fa-yo-lah." He repeated her name, accentuating its pronunciation better than anyone else she ever knew learning it for the first time. "Icelandic."

Fjóla could only stare at him, and nodded her head with a dumbfounded look. That was a first. An odd sensation fluttering in her chest. "Y-Yes, that's right. It means-"

"Violet flower, I know. It's quite fitting."

Smiling sheepishly, she touched a hand to her left cheek, just below her eye.

"Alright. I've told you my name!" She practically sang, wiggling a finger at him. "And as promised, now you have to-"

Just then, the grandfather clocked chimed, a faded yellow canary popping out of the clock face as its _Coco, coco! _rang about the room. Fjóla, like always, jumped and clutched at her chest, releasing a peep at the sudden loud noise. She didn't realize they were speaking so lowly to one another. She was too busy glaring at the clock to notice her guest standing.

She noticed when he made to step out the opened front door though.And at her surprised and horribly hidden saddened expression, he nodded towards the clock.

"Its been three hours, I'm afraid."

"Oh…"

Had time really sped by like that? She hadn't even heard the clock chime the second time around signaling the end of the second hour. He stood at the door a moment more before finally stepping outside. She scrambled up as he left her line of sight, to see him off, she told herself. He was still on her porch, arms crossed as the wind blew his hair across his broad shoulders; and his face stern again as he watched the setting sun. She caught the faint outline of a slightly pointed ear in the orange light. Her hand twitched; why didn't she bring her sketchbook?

He muttered something in a language she didn't understand.

He glanced back at her. "That book I was reading, I left it in the chair. There is a page I've folded down at the start of a chapter. You'll find my name there. And if you've read it before….then you know more about me than you believe."

Fjóla nodded slowly and hummed her understanding, though she was confused as to why he was in a book. He nodded in return and stepped off the porch, striding off towards the forest.

"W-Wait!" She called after him, much like she did the day before, and took a small step forward. He turned, not looking surprised at all that she halted him again.

"Will you, I mean if you can, a-and if you want to…um, well, will you come back again? You're welcomed to come back anytime, seriously. Maybe I'll have something you like to drink too, snacks even. I mean, I'd have to stop by town and that's like a two hour drive, and my car-"

"**Fj****ó****la**."

She shut right up.

He sighed, his jaw clenching. She waited as he looked to be contemplating and weighing his options, tilting his head as he looked back at her. "…..You'll have three hours again."

Then he left.

She stayed at the door, watching at he blended and disappeared into the thickest parts of the woods surrounding her lone standing home, then stayed longer still to watched the sun slip under the horizon. When she was sure he was totally gone and no stray beams of sunlight tricked her into thinking her was still there, Fjóla finally smiled.

She was singing, _'He'll be back, He'll be back tomorrow~' _when she skipped back into her house, locking the door behind her, and rushing right over to the book.


End file.
